Aftermath
by potterlockedintheshire
Summary: "His muscles clench, and while there's part of him saying that was a long time ago, there's a much louder part panicking, fogging up his thoughts so that he barely hears Finn say 'There's my old belt'" Warning: Themes of corporal punishment.


**Aftermath**

**Warnings:** Themes of corporal punishment, because I'm a horrible person and for some reason thought this would be a good idea. Oh, and a bit of language as well.  
**Disclaimer:** Glee isn't mine.

It's almost eleven when Puck's phone rings, and it's not like he was planning to go to sleep before midnight anyways, but that doesn't make him any less irritated. Still, when he sees who's calling, he's not stupid enough to ignore it.

"Finn?" Their friendship's finally back to almost normal, and he'll be damned if he screws it up over something as stupid as a late-night call.

"Hey, man, I'm trying to pack to move to the Hummels' and I can't find half my stuff; can you come over?"

He sighs, but says "Give me ten minutes" before ending the call and grabbing a jacket from the floor by his bed. He closes his bedroom door quietly as he slips out, trying not to wake Sarah, and passes his ma, taking the bottle in her hand and setting it on the table before walking out of the house.

When he pulls up at Finn's, only one upstairs light is on. He parks the truck and rings the doorbell, listening to the heavy sound of Finn's footsteps before the door swings open.

"Hey," Finn says, "Thanks, man. C'mon, my room's upstairs." Like Puck hasn't been here a hundred times before, but somehow Finn feels the need to treat him like they just met. Still, he follows Finn through the familiar house until they reach his bedroom.

"Your mom home?" Puck asks as they walk into a cavern of clothes-covered furniture and video games scattered on the floor.

"Nah, she's already with Burt. I told her I'd be there in a little while, but…" He gestures to the mess around him. "Anyways, I'm trying to get all the clothes out of my closet and into boxes and stuff. Mom and Burt are getting the bed later, and they said we can get the rest tomorrow."

Puck nods. "What d'you need me to do?"

"Um, like, start sticking stuff into boxes, I guess. There're some over there," he motions to the closet, where folded up cardboard boxes are partially hidden by Finn's football uniform. Finn walks over and grabs one, beginning to unfold it. "You can just shove it in; I don't care."

Puck bends down and picks up a couple of Finn's shirts, tossing them to Finn, who finishes the box and then puts them inside. They continue to pack the contents of the room, more and more of the floor visible.

"Hey, did I wake you up?" Finn says as they work, and Puck wonders if the thought's just occurred to him.

"Nah, I was awake."

"Oh, okay, good."

They keep working, Puck tossing stuff to Finn, who's standing in his closet now, and the balance between occasional conversation and near-silence is comfortable, or as comfortable as it can be with someone who just became your best friend again.

Until Puck hears the jingling of metal. He freezes where he's kneeling on the floor, a pair of Finn's jeans beneath his hand, because _he knows that sound. _He hasn't heard it in years, hasn't even thought about it since middle school, but he knows it. His muscles clench, and while there's part of him saying _that was a long time ago, _there's a much louder part panicking, fogging up his thoughts so that he barely hears Finn say "There's my old belt!"

And, yeah, when he looks at Finn, he sees that his friend is holding one end of a thick, black belt that he seems to have dug out from the back of the closet. There's a large, silver buckle on one end that's swaying slightly, still clicking a little, and Puck wants to yell at Finn _stop, put it down, put it back in the closet and close the doors and help me put the rest of your damn stuff away. _

But Finn's still blabbing on about "Wore this to my fifth grade graduation" and "Used to really like this thing" and "Made me feel like a cowboy" and a bunch of other crap that Puck's doing his best to ignore. Deliberately not looking at what Finn's holding, Puck finishes grabbing the jeans and tosses them hard at Finn.

It succeeds in making Finn shut up, but he drops the belt too, and Puck jumps so bad when it hits the wooden floor that he doesn't realize he's shaking, still on the ground and just silent now, and, God, why does Finn have to be such an idiot?

Finn, too appears startled by the noise, but after a second he reaches to retrieve the belt again. He stops when he sees Puck, breathing heavily, staring at the floor determinedly.

"Hey, man, you okay?"

"I'm _fine, _Hudson," Puck growls, voice shaking.

"Um, okay." Finn waits for a second, but Puck doesn't get up.

He knows he looks like an idiot, and what's wrong with him, why can't he just shake it off and keep cleaning Finn's damn room? But he can't stop hearing that clink of metal, and he almost reaches to touch his back before remembering that _no, he's at Finn's house, he's fine, he's sixteen now, damn it!_

"Puck?" Finn says hesitantly, and that's enough to snap him out of it at least partway because his dad never called him 'Puck.' Or 'Noah,' either.

"He stands up and spins around, walking towards the door, but Finn gets their first. "What the hell?"

"Get outta my way." He keeps his voice low so it doesn't shake again.

"Look, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but calm down before you go do something stupid."

Puck considers pushing past him and getting back in his truck, driving somewhere and drinking something and there's no way in hell he's going back home tonight. Not after this; he'll probably start flipping out again.

He doesn't say anything, just turns away sharply, pacing the floor.

He sits down on Finn's bed after a while, watching Finn put more of his stuff away. And he's calming down, he's slowly feeling his muscles unclench, until Finn grabs the belt from the floor again. And, God, why does the buckle always have to click like that?

"Seriously? Can you stop it with that damn thing?"

Finn looks over and pauses for a minute, then walks over and sits down on his bed next to Puck, setting the belt down on the other side of him. "Dude, really, what's up?"

Puck doesn't look at him. "I just don't like that thing, okay? So keep it the hell away from me."

"Why not?" And how long has Finn known him by now? This is his best friend he's talking to, his _best friend, _who doesn't even know better than to start swinging around a heavy belt like that near him. Okay, he never told Finn, not him or anyone because there's no way in hell he'd still let that be happening if his dad had stuck around. But what even happened with them, Puck wonders, so that Finn doesn't know and Puck won't tell him? How can they be sitting here in the middle of the night and after everything they've been through together, Finn's still got no clue?

"Is it 'cause it's the thick kind that doesn't go through the loops right?" Finn asks. "I used to hate those, but I think they look better than the little ones."

"The thick ones have the big buckles on them."

"So?" Finn asks, and Puck could slap him, because, honestly, he's _trying _to talk to Finn since he did just freak out and all, but there's no way in hell he's going to sit here and act like some therapy patient.

"So, the big ones hurt a lot more."

"I- oh." Finn doesn't say anything for a minute, and Puck can feel the tension next to him. Finn might not be that smart, but even he can't miss something so obvious. Maybe it's because it's late, or maybe it's the aftermath of before, but suddenly, more than anything, Puck feels tired.

Finn starts to say "When did-?" and then "Why would-" and struggles with his words for a minute.

"Was it before?" He finally asks, and Puck knows what he means.

"Yeah. Ma doesn't. I mean, she gets mad when she's drunk sometimes but, like, not like him." And okay, maybe that's not entirely true, but it's only been a couple times with his ma, and he probably mostly deserved those. It wasn't nearly as bad as when his dad was around, though, so really, that part's not a big deal.

"And he-" Puck can't help but wonder why Finn seems incapable of speech; he's not the one they're talking about.

"Yeah," Puck says, because whatever Finn was going to ask, yeah, he probably did. "Whatever, okay?"

"I-um, I guess, okay." Finn stops talking, but Puck can tell from the way he shifts uneasily that he's not done with it."

"I'm over it, man. Forget it."

"But," Finn says, and Puck thinks he would be pretty annoyed if he weren't past that now, "Why would he, y'know, do that?"

There are a hundred answers Puck could give. He could say _because he hated me and if it weren't for me he could've left my ma sooner _or _'cause I sucked back then too _or even just _how the hell should I know; it wasn't my damn idea! _Instead, he just says "Drank a lot" and leaves it at that.

Finn doesn't nod, exactly, just sits there on the bed. Puck doesn't break the silence either, not sure what he's waiting for, except maybe sleep.

"I'm the worst damn best friend ever, aren't I?" Finn says at last.

"Nah," Puck says, because, yeah, Finn's an idiot sometimes, and he's stupid and clumsy and oblivious, but he's not that bad of a best friend.

"Dude, I've known you since you were eight! How could I never-"

"I never told you, so shut up, okay?" There's no heat behind his voice. Puck falls back onto Finn's bed, closing his eyes. "If I wanted to before, I'd have said it."

"But you're my best friend! I'm supposed to know."

"You know now."

Finn can't argue with that, so he doesn't say anything. Instead, he lays down on his bed next to Puck, who moves over to make room before letting his eyes close. The only time Finn leaves his friend during the night is to clench the buckle of the dark belt, putting it silently into the depths of his closet. They can finish packing tomorrow; it won't be moving with him.


End file.
